


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by flyicarus



Category: Original Work, Political Animals, The Covenant (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyicarus/pseuds/flyicarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The holidays are the time for family, for friends, and for above all, the people that you love most in this world; this is universal, but what is not is the way that we choose to celebrate, and with whom. In either case, the love we take is equal to the love we make, and these memories will last a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TJ/Gus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antiquitea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiquitea/gifts).



> This is a collection of five stories that I wrote for my lovely and amazing friend Megan for Christmas; some are original and from our roleplays, others not so much. I hope you love this, baby girl :)
> 
> For those PA fans looking for the TJ/Doug part of this fic, it is the last chapter.

He wakes up slowly, stretching out in the large, comfortable bed that he shares with his boyfriend. Blinking his eyes open, TJ glances over to the window and smiles sleepily at the sight of snow. The weather forecast hadn’t been too promising even up to last night, but it’s sure coming down good now, and Gus will be so happy, because he loves snow and had, in fact, said just before they went to bed that it didn’t feel one hundred percent like Christmas if there wasn’t snow on the ground.

Gus…

With a soft sigh, TJ rolled over in bed, biting his lip lightly as he was met with the much welcome sight of Gus lying in bed beside him, still fast asleep. While he’d gotten used to this as he and the other man had been dating for quite some time now and they shared a bed every single night, by no means did TJ take it for granted, no, not at all. He’d spent the better part of a year being hopelessly in love with the man beside him and not thinking that he’d ever be able to have him. He was so convinced, but oh, he’d just been stupid, because Gus had been in love with him the whole time, thinking the same thing.

Thank God he got the balls to actually say something – and to be quite honest, TJ was more than a little grateful for all the subtle and not-so-subtle pushes that he got from Doug, and from Sophie, and even from every other member of his family, including Bud, who was … surprisingly insightful, when it came to matters of love.

Being that Gus was usually an early riser, TJ planned on taking advantage of this opportunity for as long as he could. It was Christmas day, after all, the first they were spending together as a couple; they were in Boston, with Gus’ family, and if he strained his ears, TJ could hear a few people moving around the house already. If he had to lay money down on it, he’d say that it was Gus’ mom and dad, and maybe that weird aunt who dressed like Helena Bonham Carter and bore more than just a passing resemblance to the woman.

Humming contentedly, he snuggled further under the blankets, keeping his eyes on Gus. He was so beautiful, TJ thought. So sweet and wonderful and kind, just the best man in the whole world, and he was all his. Reaching forward tentatively, careful not to move too quickly, TJ brushed his fingers along Gus’ cheek, along his jaw, and then back up, tracing the shell of his ear before carding slowly through his hair. Gus hummed lightly in his sleep, tilting his head toward TJ’s touch even then, and he couldn’t help but smile brightly. This was how well Gus loved him, that even when he was unconscious, he still wanted to be as close as possible.

It was a dream come true, and one that TJ vowed never to stop being grateful for. He could be dead. He could be strung out in an alley or shaking through withdrawals in his mother’s home. He could be any number of things, but no. He was safe and warm and clean, happy and loved, all because of Gus. Gus had saved him, he was sure; in every way it was possible for a person to be saved. And now, Gus loved him, would always love him and never abandon him.

Smiling faintly, he leans in and kisses Gus gently, shifts his hand down so that he can rub it slowly over Gus’ chest and stomach, just the way that he knows that he likes. Still humming sleepily, Gus responds to the kiss after a moment, and that’s what lets TJ know that he’s awake. He pulls back after a moment, smiling warmly, and nuzzles his nose to Gus’. “Morning, baby. Merry Christmas.”

Gus smiles sleepily, tilting his head toward TJ as he rubs a hand over his eyes, pushing away the edges of sleep, though it’ll take a few moments more before he’s completely recovered.

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” Gus replies, voice still a little rough from disuse after sleeping for so long.

TJ’s heart swells with love at the fact that Gus calls him Tommy; it’s usually something that only his mother or twin call him, but he’s caught Gus doing it loads of time. Usually it’s in moments of sleep, like this, or when Gus is trying to comfort him, or even still when they’re in bed together and Gus is crying out his name in abject pleasure.

Thinking about it now, the thought of Gus writhing beneath him, rocking back up against his cock, or standing above him while TJ deep-throats him eagerly, TJ makes a low noise in the back of his throat, pressing his burgeoning erection against Gus’ hip.

Gus exhales quietly, shifting toward the touch even as he looks at TJ incredulously, though with obvious affection. “You serious?”

“Mhm,” TJ says idly, shifting so that his body covers Gus’, and he ducks his head, kissing along his throat, warm open-mouthed kisses that have Gus tipping his head back as his arms wind around TJ, hands smoothing down his back to his ass. “Sure am.”

He doesn’t hear Gus complaining, though – not that he would, TJ is reasonably certain that Gus lives in a permanent state of wanting him in some manner or other, which is something that he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to, but he thrives on it. Rolling his hips slowly, he hears the hitch in Gus’ breath, and knows that he has him.

“Yeah, okay,” Gus murmurs, nodding a little, somewhat unnecessarily.

“We’ll have to be quiet, though,” TJ informs, licking along Gus’ pulse and pausing to suck at the crook of his neck, aiming to leave a mark that’ll more than likely cause him some awkward moments with Sophie later, because of course Sophie would call him out on something like that. Of course she would.

Gus scrunches his nose playfully even though TJ can’t see it anyway, and pushes at the hem of TJ’s boxers. The former first son answers by pulling away briefly to wriggle out of his undergarments, already fully hard just at the prospect of being with Gus. After divesting his boyfriend of his flannels, TJ knelt between his legs, rubbing his hands slowly over Gus’ thighs and just looking him over until his boyfriend was fully hard and shifting lightly against the bed. Fuck, he was gorgeous; he still took TJ’s breath away even though they’d seen each other like this more times than he could count.

Smiling up at him, Gus stretches out a little, obviously trying to entice TJ, not that he ever has to do that. It does work, though, and TJ licks at his bottom lip before reaching into the bedside table, pleased to find that Gus has already put the lube in the first drawer. “Good boy,” he says approvingly as he pops the cap open. Gus whimpers and TJ smirks, pushing at his hip. “Roll over.”

Gus does, without question; he spreads his legs and leaves them up a little so that from the waist down he rather resembles a bracket, but he has his arms crossed under his head, resting his cheek against his forearm. TJ takes another moment to appreciate the view, rubbing his free hand over Gus’ ass, humming appreciatively. “TJ,” he whines, shifting his hips.

“Yeah, yeah,” TJ says, grinning a little, coating his fingers with lube before pressing two into Gus’ hole, being rewarded with a low moan. Christmas indeed – barely eight o’clock and TJ is opening his first present. He grins more at the thought, making a mental note to tell his boyfriend about his moment of cleverness later; for now, the time for actual conversation is past.

He spends long moments working Gus open, taking longer than necessary just because he likes the sight of Gus wriggling against his fingers, the sounds he makes. Low gasps and hitches of breath, smothered moans as his hips jerk when TJ’s fingers brush against his prostate, always on purpose, always with deliberation. By the end of it Gus is almost sobbing into the pillow, begging for TJ to please, please just c’mon already, and he has to resist the urge to tell Gus to really beg for it, because there’s a time and a place for that and it’s definitely not right now.

(He makes another mental note to make the time sometime soon.)

“Tommy,” Gus gasps, tone a little sharp. He’s been on the precipice for far too long, and he’s almost painfully hard against the mattress, so he lifts his hips up a little after grinding against the sheets, just trying to take the edge off. He’s so keyed up, wants TJ so much, and he hisses TJ’s name once more. It brings TJ back to himself and it’s all he needs, pulling his fingers from Gus’ body, wiping his fingers on his discarded sleep shirt. He gives himself a few quick strokes, moaning quietly, before he positions himself and slowly presses inside. His body covers Gus’, hands covering his boyfriend’s and their fingers lace together just as TJ bottoms out, his hips pressed flush to Gus’ ass.

They stay still for a moment, both of them breathing harshly as their hips twitch, both of them completely loving moments like this. It feels so fantastic, and they’d not even really done anything yet. “Gus?” TJ asks breathlessly, hips poised to pull back.

Gus nods, lips parted and eyes shut, and TJ lets out a small sigh of relief, pulling back until only the tip of his cock remains in Gus’ body. He holds there for a moment, and then thrusts back in firmly, causing Gus to cry out softly, though his boyfriend turns his head to the pillow at the last second to smother it. TJ’s glad for that, because he really doesn’t want to be interrupted while he and Gus are like this. If anyone would do it, it would be Sophie, he thinks, but then he realizes that he doesn’t want to think anymore. He just wants to have Gus, and have him he does.

Pressing his face further into the pillow, his fingers tearing into the mattress beneath him, and the muffled cries he let out with each painfully sweet thrust TJ made into his body was absolute music to the other man’s ears. Gus is spent within moments, and TJ follows suit, shuddering above Gus and chanting his name like a mantra, a hand finding its way fisted carefully in his hair.

Moments later they’re still fighting to catch their breath, curled against each other and exchanging gentle touches, their bodies cooling on top of the sheets. TJ has his arms wrapped around Gus, holding the other man close to keep him warm, and he brushes his fingers through Gus’ hair soothingly, both of their heads turned toward the window, watching the snow fall. The house is definitely waking up around them, and they can hear Gus’ family moving around, the shower running, and a faint clatter from the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas,” he says again, lips brushing against Gus’ slightly damp forehead.

“Merry Christmas,” Gus replies, smiling brightly, snuggling all that much closer.

#

Later, after a long Christmas day, as TJ and Sophie wash the dishes from dessert, she nudges his hips with her own. “Good Christmas, TJ?” she asks, smiling over at him, flicking some soapsuds in his direction good-naturedly.

“The best,” he affirms, looking out the window to wear Gus is playing with some of his younger cousins, letting them push him into piles of snow. He smiles too, bright enough that it warms Sophie’s heart to see how in love with her brother he is. “The absolute best.”


	2. Alex/Noah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex Hale and Noah Abbott are original characters that antiquitea and I came up with and play with quite often. Alex is a pyrokinetic, a former prisoner of the nefarious government organization Division, and Noah is a telekinetic, working for the rebellion.

Alex figures that he’s probably the luckiest man alive, and nothing that Noah says to the contrary (because even after the years they’ve known each other, Noah is still incredibly modest about what and how much he means to the pyro, which – Alex finds it kind of cute, in an exasperated, affectionate way) will convince him otherwise. It’s the holidays and he has a man who loves him, a dog that is as playful as ever, and – this still amazes him – a daughter. Beautiful, precious Rowan, their little one. Alex’s heart feels full from how happy and full of love he is for all of them, every single day, but no more than now, three weeks before Christmas.

Their little family will be heading to New Maine the following afternoon, taking a plane rather than driving, but Alex kind of longs for the lengthy car trips that he and Noah used to share. Life with Division is calm in a way that he hadn’t been aware that it would, and occasionally, Alex finds himself missing the little things. Their apartment at the rebellion headquarters, the long car drives, the slight thrill after a mission gone well, how sexy Noah could look covered in a bit of blood and dirt and sweat.

Alex wouldn’t give up what they have now for the world, though. Peace, no danger, no threat of being carried away in the night, of being killed. Life is good, and he’s so incredibly grateful.

It’s a miracle that the both of them are even still alive after everything they’ve been through, never mind that they’re actually together and happy. Certainly not emotionally and physically unscathed, but whole enough that even the broken bits they carry inside of themselves fit neatly together like puzzle pieces perfectly aligned.

Shifting a bit in the sand, Alex pulls his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them loosely as he looks at the waves. The best thing about the beach house is how damn close it actually is to the water. He loves it, always has. The scent of the ocean, the sight of the horizon endless and so far, making Alex feel small; the way he can go out on the sand dunes and sit if he needs to think, although Noah always joins him sooner or later, just as he does now.

The older man sits beside him, wrapping his arm around Alex’s shoulders, and Alex leans into it, scooting close and nestling at Noah’s side.

“Rowan’s taking a nap, Charlie’s with her,” the mover says by way of explanation as to what he’s doing out here, rather than staying in the house to look after their daughter. Which – it’s okay, because the sand dunes aren’t far from the house, and Charlie is such a good dog, so brave, he’s definitely saved Alex and Noah before. They’re safe, now, and they don’t have to worry about the things that they once did.

“Good,” Alex murmurs, leaning his head against Noah’s shoulder. “Did Mom call?”

“Mhm, and William. They’re carpooling to New Maine from the city, should be there about a week before Christmas. We’ll have plenty of time to ourselves,” Noah assures, and after these years Alex supposes that he should be surprised by the fact that Noah can tell what’s worrying him even though he’s not voiced those concerns in even the slightest way.

He’d been worrying that he and Noah wouldn’t have enough time at the cabin to themselves; every year that they went, Alex felt so incredibly happy and at home. The cabin was the first place he’d felt safe, the first time he’d had a good holiday with someone that he cared for. His first Christmas with Noah. The cabin would always have a special place in his heart, and he and Noah had been going back every year since that first one, it had never been a question to either of them, which meant more than Alex was sure he was prepared to say.

“Good. I’m excited,” Alex murmurs, tilting his head so that he can kiss at Noah’s jaw lightly, nipping occasionally, something that he reasons privately as staking his claim, though it’s not like Noah’s with anyone else or would even look at another person askance. Alex is it for him, and Noah is it for Alex. They’re going to be together forever, he believes that now, knows that he has it, and that thought still makes Alex as giddy as a schoolboy.

Noah chuckles a little, rubbing his hand against Alex’s shoulder. “And to think that the first Christmas we ever spent together, you weren’t all that into the holiday spirit. Now it’s your favourite holiday.”

Alex scrunches his nose playfully, though he laughs a little as well, before his expression goes serious. “Of course I like it now. I finally have reasons to be happy, and even that first Christmas, I ended up really into it. Your love for Christmas is infectious, Noah. And…”

He pauses, brow furrowing as he bites at his lip lightly. Sometimes, no matter how much time has passed, Alex finds himself getting emotional over the things he has now that he had been so sure in the past would never, ever come his way. Because he didn’t deserve them, because he was broken, because he wasn’t worth loving or anyone sticking around, because he had to run and hide, because of Division. But now he has a family, one that he chose for himself; he has Noah, the person he loves most in the world. He has Rowan, their daughter, their wonderful girl. He has Charlie, the dog that Noah had bought for him just to see him smile. He has his mother, their relationship flourishing and growing close in the time after his father’s death and the fall of Division. He even has William, and Alex counts him only as second to Noah in the category of the best men he knows.

Moisture gathers in his eyes and Alex sniffles quietly, feeling a little stupid. Why does he always have to cry? Noah tilts his chin up so that he can get a full view of Alex’s face, and he smiles fondly before brushing his thumb under Alex’s eyes, getting rid of his tears. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, and Alex smiles through it, because even all these years later, he still loves that Noah calls him baby, that he belongs to the other man. Body, mind, soul. Every bit of Alex Hale belongs to Noah Abbott, and he wouldn’t change it for anything.

“I’m just so happy,” Alex murmurs, shifting against Noah and nudging him to lay back in the sand so that he can snuggle right against him, all but clinging to him. “I have you, and Rowan. Charlie, Mom, and William. I have a family, and you do to, and I’m so lucky to have this in my life. I’m so loved, and I love you all so much. This is what I always wanted for myself.”

He buries his face against the crook of Noah’s neck, a few tears sneaking out anyway, and Noah holds him that much tighter when he feels the hot tears against his skin.

“I know, Alex,” he murmurs, and from the tone of his voice Alex can tell that Noah’s feeling emotional as well. “This is the life we’ve always wanted. It’s not big or grand, but it’s full of love, and we’re happy. Around the holidays it’s that much more important, because they’re all about family, and … now, we finally have one. We have each other.”

“Yes,” Alex whispers, shifting so that he can rest his head on Noah’s chest, right above his heart. “We have each other.”

In a few minutes they’ll move, go back to the beach house and finish packing and clearing everything up, look in on their daughter. But for right now, with the unseasonable warmth of the California winter allowing them to stay out like this, and the breeze and sound of the waves so inviting, Noah and Alex stay put, holding each other close, allowing the time to take them back to the beginning, when all they had was each other. And, despite everything that they’ve been through… That’s what they still have. What they always will.


	3. Simon/Gus

From his studio where he’s working on a new painting that he’s been unable to get out of his head for ages, Gus hears his front door open and close, hears someone moving around his apartment, but he doesn’t pay that much attention – the only people who have keys are Sophie and Simon, so he trusts that when they want to talk to him, they’ll come to him. And they do – when there’s a knock at the doorframe, he turns his head and sees Simon, still in his work clothes, but looking handsome as always.

“Hey, babe,” Gus says, smiling warmly and setting his palette and brush down, wiping his hands on a rag he has close by for just such occasions. “You take a break from work?”

“It’s my lunch hour,” Simon supplies, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves before stepping in close, kissing Gus softly. “I needed to talk to you about something,” he adds, glancing out to the window where snow is falling, just flurries, but the weathermen are promising lots of snow in time for Christmas.

“Oh…”

He wonders, as he often does when someone says that they ‘need to talk,’ if it’s something bad. Gus really loves Simon, and Izzy too, and he’s struck with the sudden fear that maybe Simon is here to break up with him, just over a week before Christmas.

“No, no, it’s fine, nothing bad,” Simon assures, cupping Gus’ face in his palms, thumbs brushing against the other man’s cheekbones. Gus relaxes into it immediately, shutting his eyes briefly and humming contentedly. His boyfriend sure knows how to make him happy, to keep him at ease, and he’s so grateful. Anxieties and worries immediately vanish.

“I have to go on a business trip,” Simon says, leaning in and nuzzling Gus lightly. “Urgent stuff, meetings up in Montreal. I tried to get out of it, but I can’t. And the thing is, Izzy and I always spend Christmas together; I don’t want her to go to Amelia.”

Gus nods, understanding, eyes opening so that he can try and gauge what Simon’s telling him. He wants to rub his hand over Simon’s side, but with the paint on there, he doesn’t want to take the risk of messing up his clothes, not that he thinks Simon would be upset or anything. (He always keeps a change or two of clothes at Gus’ place just in case of emergency, because this has happened before, after all.)

“But I can’t leave Izzy home alone, she still has school tomorrow, and she’s not old enough to be left by herself…” Simon takes a breath, looking Gus over fondly. “I want you to stay with her, until I come home. It shouldn’t be that tough, she’s a good kid and you two always have fun together, and I should be home by Christmas Eve day, promise.”

He looks at Gus hopefully, smiling in the way he’s come to know that Gus absolutely can’t resist, and Gus chuckles, his heart feeling so full. His boyfriend trusts him with his daughter (which he already knew, but this is the holidays and looking after family always means most around this time), and Simon wants him there for Christmas, which Gus has been hoping for a long time.

“I’d love to,” he murmurs, kissing Simon slowly, licking into his mouth lightly. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll look after Izzy.”

#

After vacation starts, Izzy and Gus start a routine, which – on the surface, it sounds boring, but it’s fun for the both of them and, though he doesn’t say so, it makes Gus more sure that this is what he wants, a family with Simon, and with Izzy. Plenty of holidays like this, each one better than the last.

Their routine goes something like this: breakfast in the morning, showers, cartoons or movies until lunchtime, lunch, what Izzy calls ‘holiday stuff’ (this includes getting the tree and decorating the condo until it’s a veritable winter wonderland), and then lazing around. Occasionally they’ll go over Gus’ place so that he can work on his painting, or out and about the city, eating lunch or going to a museum, or window shopping and looking at all the decorations.

Izzy loves spending time with Gus, and she doesn’t once ask if she can go spend time with a friend, or with Amelia (though she’s not around anyway.) She just wants to be with Gus, and every night the two of them Skype with Simon, whisper I love you's and how much they miss him. He knows that this is one of his better Christmases, and Gus always tucks Izzy in with kisses and love and her stuffed giraffe.

Christmas Eve finds them snuggling on the couch after dinner, Murchill with them, as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer plays on television, third in a line of movies that Izzy has requested they watch. She says that she just wants to watch movies, but Gus knows that she’s trying to stay up as late as possible because Simon still isn’t home. He called earlier, saying there was some sort of work emergency, and while both Gus and Izzy understood and wished him well, it was Christmas Eve. Izzy wanted her father, and Gus wanted his boyfriend.

“Is he gonna be home soon?” Izzy asks sleepily, snuggling close against Gus’ chest, as she’s been nestled in his lap for the better part of the last movie and a half.

“Of course he is,” Gus replies, brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her temple briefly. “He promised, and your dad never breaks a promise. He loves you too much to stay away.”

A few minutes later, as Rudolph joins Santa’s team of reindeer, Izzy is fast asleep. Gus turns off the television and holds her close carefully, carrying her to her bedroom. He tucks her in, adjusting the blankets around and leaving the room briefly to go get Murchill off the couch. Just as he’s setting the giraffe next to her, Izzy blinks her eyes open, catching two of his fingers in her hand.

“Gus?” she murmurs.

“Yeah, Iz?” he asks, brushing her hair away from her face once more.

“Daddy loves you too, you know,” Izzy manages around a yawn, wrapping an arm around Murchill and tugging him close to her chest. Gus smiles brightly, the young girl’s words making him impossibly happy. Once he’s sure that Izzy is resting peacefully, he gets on his own Christmas pajamas (that Izzy had picked out of course – they got matching onesies, holiday themed, and while he was a grown man and definitely not used to wearing them, it made Izzy happy, and that was what mattered) and settles into Simon’s bed, glancing at the clock before relaxing, stretching out a bit.

He wants more than anything for Simon to keep his promise, and he keeps his eyes open for as long as he can, but it’s been a long week; when Gus falls asleep, all the Christmas lights are still on, and Simon still isn’t there.

#

The bed dips under additional weight, and a cool hand brushes against Gus’ cheek. It takes a few moments, but he does wake up, blinking his eyes drowsily and shifting beneath the blankets. Once he’s near full awake, he realizes that it’s Simon in bed beside him, touching him gently, and Gus smiles sleepily, snuggling close. Simon wraps his arms around him easily enough, plucking at the fabric of Gus’ onesie and chuckling quietly.

“Izzy’s idea,” Gus murmurs, tilting his head and kissing Simon’s chin. “We got matching ones.”

He can’t see it, but the smile on Simon’s face is impossibly fond. “She behave? Everything go okay?”

Gus nods, resting his head against Simon’s chest, snuggling as close as possible. “Yeah, she was great. We had lots of fun.” He yawns, blinking sleepily; he’s tired, and when he manages to get a glimpse of the clock, it’s almost three am. “You’re home late.”

“The airline overbooked the plane I was originally going to take, I had to catch a later flight. I’m sorry that I didn’t call, but I did keep my promise,” Simon replies quietly, running his fingers through Gus’ hair just the way he knows that the younger man likes.

“You did keep your promise,” Gus agrees, “and—”

Just then he’s interrupted by Izzy’s sleepy voice from the doorway. “Gus, why’d you turn the lights off? We’re supposed to keep them on for—” She sees Simon then, realizes that he’s there, and in a split second she’s flying into the room, jumping on the bed and hugging him (and Gus as well) rather fiercely. “Daddy!”

Gus feels so incredibly lucky in that moment, to be allowed to be part of this wonderful family, have these two amazing people in his life. After a few minutes of quiet murmuring and catching up, shifting about in the bed, the three of them settle in, snuggled up together.

“Night, Daddy,” Izzy whispers. “Night, Gus.”

“Goodnight, Iz,” Gus replies, and Simon follows up with, “Night, baby girl.”

Izzy falls asleep relatively quickly, as kids do, and before he falls asleep, Gus looks up to Simon and kisses his cheek. “Merry Christmas, love.” Simon turns his head just a little, smiling fondly and nuzzling Gus affectionately. He’s so in love with this man, so enamored; his heart is always so full, and he’s happier than he’s been in years, all because of Gus. Maybe it’s the holidays, but he wants Gus around for always.

“Merry Christmas, Gus.”

For all that both of them haven’t actually said it yet, they know that they want this for always; they know that they’re in love. And Simon, a man who thought he’d never have happiness like this, and Gus, who always gave so much of himself to others that he never went after anything for himself – it’s amazing. It may not be the exact scenario that they dreamed about, but sometimes, rarely, it is reality that is far better than dreams.


	4. Chase/Eleanor

April 14th, 1942

The nurses have a day off, and as always, they get away from the oppressive environment of the hospital and go traversing through the city. While Evelyn isn’t necessarily one to frolic, her mind more predisposed to serious things; she too wants to get away from the hospital. They walk in a group, getting coffee from a shop and then looking at displays in windows. The weather is unseasonably warm for London at this particular time of year, but the girls take it as it is, wanting to wring every last moment before they have to return to work the next morning.

Marla cracks a joke that has all of them, even Evelyn, laughing, and she turns the corner before the rest of them, running smack into a soldier going the opposite way.

“Oh!” she gasps, hands bracing against his chest, his own hand gripping at the crux of her elbow to hold her steady. “I’m terribly sorry—”

She looks up, and the roguish grin that greets her, the eyes, the very man, steals her breath away. It appears that she has the same affect on him, and for a moment they only look at one another, brought back to reality only because of the giggles of the girls (and they cannot see the knowing glances between the men the soldier had been walking with.)

“Sergeant Collins, of the 107th,” the man supplies, still smiling a little. “James Collins.”

“Evelyn Montgomery,” she replies, all too conscious of the fact that his hand is still holding her arm securely, and whether he knows it or not, his thumb is rubbing absently at her skin. After a moment more, she continues, “May I please have my arm back, Sergeant Collins?”

He blushes, something she finds oddly endearing, and in that moment she is incredibly aware of something in her world turning and shifting, of her life changing forever.

“Sorry,” he mutters, stepping back and removing his garrison cap. “That was very untoward—”

“Certainly it was,” she says kindly, “but I suppose that you were just caught off guard. My friends and I shall be on our way. And I’m sorry, once again.”

The other nurses seem shocked that she’s not trying to dawdle, to stay near this man for longer – anyone could see their chemistry, the way that there was something between them, and they’d only just met. The girls follow after her slowly, a few of them whispering and glancing back toward James and his friends as they start down the street.

Barely five minutes have passed before they hear someone running behind them, and only when they hear Evelyn’s name do they stop. It’s Sergeant Collins, and he pauses a moment to catch his breath before he turns to Evelyn.

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

She doesn’t even have to ask to what he’s referring, and she simply nods.

“Well here, tonight me and the fellas are gonna be—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts suddenly, the moment feeling almost terrifying and simultaneously exhilarating. “If it’s meant to be, then I’ll find you anyway. Serendipity.”

James doesn’t look entirely pleased, and he tries to tell her several times before Evelyn gives him a quick, fierce kiss and then turns on her heel, running away toward the ice cream parlor that the girls have been talking about going to.

The rest of the day her mind is distracted, and Evelyn wonders if her moment of whimsy may have cost her the chance to actually be with someone that captured her attention immediately. Her friends certainly think so, but she waves them off, mind still on James Collins and his blue, blue eyes and his devilish smile. Later that night, to get her to stop moping, the girls persuade her to go out for a few cocktails. She puts on her red dress, the one she was meant to wear for special occasions, and they make their way to the Bailey pub near Piccadilly.

She trips entering the pub, and is caught from falling to the floor by a pair of strong arms. A familiar voice says, “You alright, miss?”

When she lifts her eyes, the world ends again; it is none other than Sergeant Collins, and he grins brighter when he realizes that it is the beautiful girl from earlier he has caught in his arms. “You found me,” he says, almost stupidly.

“Yes,” Evelyn murmurs, her fingers flexing delicately against his arm. “And you caught me again.”

#

They spend the night dancing, pressed close and whispering to each other, and it’s undeniable to the both of them what they’re feeling, even though the circumstances are more than slightly bewildering to them both. Near the end of the night, the pub gearing up to close, James takes Evelyn by the hand and tugs her outside, putting his coat over his shoulders.

“The boys and I are shipping out to the front tomorrow,” he says, voice low and obviously saturated with regret.

The front. The words bring to mind the devastated men Evelyn treats most every day in her hospital; it brings to mind bombs and devastation and loss, and she grasps his hand tighter.

“I don’t want you to say goodbye,” James continues, “because that’s not what it is. I’ll see you again.” His tone is firm and brooks no argument, and Evelyn simply nods. After that, it doesn’t look as if he really knows what to say, and they stand there in silence for a few more moments before Evelyn makes a small sound and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him long and slow and sweet. When she pulls back, she reaches a hand up to undo the pendant she always wears.

“Saint Jude,” she murmurs, pressing the pendant into his palm, closing his fingers over it. “The patron saint of lost causes. I expect you to give it back to me.”

He nods, and she turns on her heel and walks away before she loses her nerve.

“Serendipity,” he calls after her, and her heart breaks a little.

#

December 25th, 1944

Evelyn feels as if her heart’s in her throat as she steps through the streets of London, making her way confidently, side-stepping small pockets of soldiers walking or standing around. There’s no snow falling just yet, but she hopes all the same. It seems that what she’s been doing a lot of lately is hoping; it’s all there is for her to do, especially in her line of work – as a nurse at a recovery hospital for soldiers. She has these feelings, just niggling sensations in her heart, in her mind, and sometimes she sees it though she can’t explain it – Evelyn is infamous around her hospital for knowing when someone will die, and for somehow knowing exactly what it is they need to hear to go in peace.

She never got the chance to tell James that, but she thinks that she might. Some of the soldiers who had come to visit comrades in the hospital had been talking around the tureen of coffee, saying that the 107th was back in town after a particularly devastating tour in the front. Who knew how long they’d be there, where they’d go next? Evelyn’s heart caught in her throat and she remembered blue eyes and a warm smile and the most solid, encompassing presence that she’d ever felt. Shaking her head, she’d turned back to her work, but her mind was always on the possibility that it meant that James was back, within her grasp. As soon as she could leave, she did, not even stopping to do much beyond basic freshening up, which left her –

Near Piccadilly, despite the bombings in London, the Bailey pub still stands, a favourite of American soldiers. She danced there once, kissed a man there, let him hold her close and throw themselves headfirst at the precipice they’d never for a once entertained the idea of pulling back from. They could have, of course, but they didn’t. They couldn’t.

When she finally gets to the pub, Evelyn pushes her way through the crowd, hoping beyond hope that after all these long months, where every fresh batch of soldiers brought a sharp fear to her chest, or every man in a uniform caused her head to turn, that James would finally have returned. These men, although they’re certainly cheery, have a different look than the ones that had left months ago. They’ve been changed, they’re darker, sharper at the edges, and when she doesn’t see James’ face immediately in a sea of other worn faces Evelyn feels loss and fear and incredible, incredible sadness, until—

She sees a man that she remembers vaguely from that night of dancing, and he taps the shoulder of a man facing away from her, nursing what looks to be a sizeable beer. He turns slowly, and there he is, and she’s never been so happy to see him. It’s Christmas day, and he’s here, and he’s alive. Without question she moves swiftly to him, and he stands, catching her in his arms.

“Serendipity,” he murmurs, and she can feel the smile against the curve of her ear.

#

They head upstairs, Evelyn paying for the night for one of the rooms above the bar, and they lock the door behind them, suddenly desperate. Their clothes don’t last long, and neither do they, hands clutching and exploring and still, incredibly gentle. He has scars now, more than she thought he might’ve had when he left her, but it doesn’t deter her from loving him all the more, and for a brief second it seems like he might weep at that. Such a beautiful strong boy returning scarred and broken, why should he be loved? But he is.

They lay together afterward, naked as the day they were born and hands still moving over skin.

“We only have a few days,” James says. “Then it’s back out. We’re heading to Belgium.”

Her heart feels heavy and yet so full. “Then we have a few days.”

Evelyn’s fingers toy with the chain around his neck, the pendant of Saint Jude. Though she’s never been particularly religious, she thinks that she might be now. Surely only God could have gotten James back to her.

#

When his train leaves from the station, Evelyn watches with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun until it vanishes entirely from her sight. Her heart is on that train, and she already wants it back. But fate returned him once to her already, and she knows that it will again.

#

Fate doesn’t. Fate is the Battle of the Bulge and frozen earth and warm blood, and as James lays, breath quickening as he tries to hold his blood inside himself, on the snowy ground, he turns his head. Poking out of the frozen ground beneath him is a bright shoot of green – some flower, maybe, or even a weed. It is still green, and the beauty of life amidst all the destruction and even his own death makes him smile, makes his hand reach to his neck rather than his wound instead, fumbling around for a pendant on a gold chain.

Her name is the last word he speaks, and then he is still, and many miles away, a woman with dark hair knows that something is wrong.

#

The bombs hit London three weeks later, before a batch of letters and a pendant wrapped in wax paper make their way to Evelyn’s hands. She should go to the basement, she knows that she should, but she stays put, and when her body is found she looks for all the world like she is sleeping, merely at peace, and maybe, she finally is.

#

It may appear like their story was over, but a mobius strip of connection and love and loyalty and promises makes certain that it would happen again.


	5. TJ/Doug

Doug stands at the window of the apartment that he and TJ share in Washington, DC. He pulls back the curtain, looking out to the world beyond. It’s snowing, but New Years Eve partygoers make do, huddling in small groups as they trudge through the fluffy white stuff. From what the forecast said, the snow would continue into tomorrow afternoon. He’s always loved snow, how beautiful and fresh and clean it made the world, even playing in it when he was younger. Any other year he’d be with his family, him and TJ both, but they wanted something of their own this year.

“They’ll be expecting us at the parties,” TJ murmurs, stepping up behind him and wrapping his arms around Doug’s waist, nuzzling at the back of his neck, hand rubbing absently at his stomach. Doug can’t really help the way he hums contentedly; TJ has always been able to make him feel good with even the simplest of touches.

“Probably,” Doug agrees, reaching a hand down to rub along TJ’s forearm. “But I’d rather be with you, like this. If you want to go out, though—”

He knows that TJ likes partying in ways that he never has, that his twin enjoys the company of men and women alike, sometimes all at once or several times during the night, and the alcohol and drugs, which – well, it’s not more than any other college kid might experiment with, but TJ has always had a tendency toward ‘all or nothing’ that Doug keeps an eye on. He has to, of course; it’s his responsibility to look after his twin, the same way that TJ looks after him.

“No,” TJ replies, tilting his head to kiss at the curve of Doug’s ear. “I want to be with you, too. You made that nice dinner earlier, and we didn’t really get a chance on Christmas to—” He pauses, holding Doug a little closer. “To do things our way.”

Doug understands what he means. The most important person in the world to him is TJ, and it’s the same vice versa, and with what they really are to each other… They’re practically desperate for each other all the time, and no one would understand, of course they wouldn’t, why they need each other. We were born together, made together, Doug always says. We were made for this. And people wouldn’t understand, but then again, how could they? How many people in the world could understand literally being born as half of a whole, where he and TJ complement each other perfectly like puzzle pieces? It’s natural and right, he’s certain, but he knows that not everyone would see it that way.

“I know,” he says, closing the curtain and turning in TJ’s arms, his hands coming to cup his face. “This is good. Couldn’t ask for anything better.” Doug sweeps his thumbs along TJ’s cheekbones, delighting in the way that TJ’s eyes flutter shut and he smiles faintly, but with obvious happiness. “Besides, who else would I want to kiss at midnight?”

TJ opens his eyes, grins. They don’t talk about the fact that TJ goes out and sleeps with other people, because for Doug, this is it. He goes out on dates sometimes, with nice women who will make someone very happy someday, but it’s mostly to keep up appearances. The only person that he wants is in his arms at this very moment. Besides, he knows that next to him, the women and men that TJ frolics around with mean absolutely jack shit. TJ would die for him, would do anything for him, and Doug is always cognizant of that fact.

“You better not want to kiss anyone else,” he says, scrunching his nose a little.

“Only want you, Tommy,” Doug murmurs, and TJ grins again, rubbing his hands over Doug’s back and down to his ass, slipping them inside the fabric of his flannels and getting a generous handful of his ass. He makes a low noise, pressing a little closer, their noses nuzzling together and lips ghosting.

“It’s not midnight yet.”

“Don’t care,” TJ supplies, leaning in and kissing Doug slowly, the way he always does when they’re alone and he’s trying to treasure it. Given that TJ usually reaches the point of physical desperation far before him, Doug has learned to treasure such moments, to just let himself float into them, because it’s in these moments that TJ will always try to take care of him, taking on the role of the big brother and simultaneous lover, and it’s amazing.

TJ holds him close, not letting go of his ass, making a low noise into the kiss as Doug licks at the edges of his mouth and then inward, their tongues brushing together slowly. His twin tastes of the chocolate orange mousse that Doug made for dessert, and it’s heavenly, certainly not least because no one else will taste him this way tonight. Tonight, they only belong to each other.

Pulling back a little, Doug looks into TJ’s eyes, completely drawn into the blue therein - he can easily see how much TJ wants him, or at least, wants to kiss and touch him (and a whole lot else besides), and how could he deny that? He smiles breathlessly when TJ tips his head back, almost in invitation for another kiss and then tries to pull him closer. Doug moves readily, pressing flush against TJ, their bodies aligning perfectly; his hands slide from TJ's face to curl against his neck, thumbs pressing against the sharp line of his jaw and all but holding him in place. He wets his lips lightly, glanced between TJ's eyes and his mouth, and then leans back in, kissing his twin deeply, passionately, tongue delving into his mouth and stealing his breath from him.

TJ moans quietly, pressing his body as close to Doug as he can, considering they were already so close. He can barely breathe under Doug's ministrations, and it’s a wonderfully heady feeling, one he hopes that he never has to deal without. He knows, though, that it’s not something he has to worry about; Doug will never leave him.

His hands travel from Doug's shirt, his bicep, to wrap around his waist, anchoring his strong body against his; his twin’s body may not look like much when he’s clothed, but TJ knows the way that Doug is actually incredibly fit and strong, able to pin him when they wrestle around, and it turns him on so much. TJ whimpers quietly, feeling so warm all over, and continues to kiss Doug, pulling back a little and nibbling on his bottom lip.

Pulling back a bit for air, he kneads at his twin’s ass slowly, rubbing their hips together. “Dougie,” he gasps, lips feeling swollen, and Doug nods, nudging his hands away and grabbing one, tugging him along to the bedroom. It’s not midnight yet, but they don’t care, and it’s New Year’s Eve. There’s nothing more that Doug wants than to be with TJ right now, and TJ feels the same exact way, which is the best feeling in the whole world. “C’mon, Tommy,” he murmurs, lacing their fingers as they enter the bedroom, and with a small push TJ has him flat on the bed.

He straddles Doug’s waist, hands pushing at the fabric of his shirt until Doug manages to wriggle out of it. TJ hums appreciatively, rubbing his hands over his twin’s chest slowly, fingers catching on nipples and coaxing them to hardness in barely a second, which makes him smirk a little. Doug rolls his eyes, even as he arches up further into TJ’s touch, mewling quietly. Tommy’s always been this way, he thinks, feels proud of the moments when he can get Doug to lose control, because of something that he’s done. TJ thrives on it, and it fills Doug with special warmth to know that.

“Take your clothes off,” Doug says, grinning a little.

“Awfully demanding, aren’t we?” TJ snarks back, though he wriggles out of his clothes immediately, without question. He’d do anything that Doug asked of him.

“It’s a present.”

“Not Christmas, Doug,” he replies, stretching a little, letting his body become accustomed to being naked, and he slides off Doug’s waist to nestle at his side, fingers brushing along the sensitive skin just below Doug’s navel.

“Still a present,” Doug explains, shrugging a little as he reaches down, pushing at his flannels and lifting his legs until he can pull them off. He tosses them aside, almost knocking the lamp off the desk by the window, and he chuckles as he rolls over on top of TJ. “So beautiful, baby,” he murmurs appreciatively, ducking his head and kissing along TJ’s neck – his twin loves that, so much, and within moments it has him writhing up beneath Doug, his hard cock pressing against his stomach.

“Dougie, Dougie, Dougie,” TJ gasps, rocking his hips up against Doug’s, fingers pressing into his shoulder blades.

Though he already knows that answer to this question, Doug asks anyway: “What d’you want, TJ?”

“You, obviously,” TJ manages, hooking one of his legs over Doug’s hip and grinding up against him, Doug’s cock responding and growing hard, brushing against TJ’s. “Fuck me, Dougie. Make me feel it.”

Doug goes a bit breathless at that; for all that it was slow and tender earlier, with their touches and kisses, he still marvels that TJ wants to be fucked, and often, and in moments like this, roughly. TJ likes being claimed, and he likes when Doug’s doing the claiming, makes him feel better than anything else in the whole world. It thrills him as well to know that he’s capable of that, of taking and being rough and claiming, and that TJ wants that from him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

He moves off TJ and pushes him over onto his stomach, and TJ automatically moves onto his hands and knees, spreading his legs and arching his back, looking over his shoulder at Doug, licking at his lips. When Doug doesn’t move, TJ wiggles his ass invitingly, pouting a little, and when it makes Doug laugh, he grins, too. It’s always so magical when Doug laughs, he thinks, and he’s never seen Doug laugh with anyone else the way that he laughs with him.

Doug moves to kneel between TJ’s spread legs and he rubs his hands slowly over TJ’s ass, palming at the flesh slowly until his twin is mewling quietly, pressing back against his hands. He wants to take his time and yet he doesn’t want to take his time, but with the way that TJ is moving and the sounds he’s making, he knows that the time for going slow is past. Maybe later, and he moans a little at the thought. He doesn’t want to go in dry, because no matter how much TJ loves being worked open by his cock, Doug still cares about him too much to want to cause him any pain, even if TJ loves it in the end.

Just one finger wouldn’t be too bad, though, and he bites his lip lightly as he reaches his hand inward, rubbing his finger over TJ’s hole before pressing in, and he’s barely even that before TJ’s bearing down on his finger, gasping quietly as his hands fist in the sheets. Briefly he regrets pushing TJ to his hands and knees, because right about now he’d love to kiss along his chest, but – later, he reminds himself. There will always be time for later, for all the different ways they can possibly be together. They’ll have them all, he knows.

Still working his finger inside TJ, Doug leans in, kissing along the curve of his spine, tongue darting out to trace a vertebra. TJ moans, arching his back a little, and Doug smiles against his skin.

“Dougie-“

“I know,” he murmurs, kissing down further and nuzzling at the base of TJ’s spine. “I know, baby.”

He glances up to see TJ watching him over the slope of his shoulder, and Doug grins, pulling his finger from TJ’s body before he raises his eyebrows playfully and then swiping his tongue slowly over TJ’s hole.

“Oh m-“ TJ began, biting his lip to smother a moan and failing entirely. It never fails to amaze Doug to see how TJ reacts when he does this. Not that TJ restrains himself at any other time, but this was when he seemed to lose all form of control, simply giving into every sensation, every moan and thought escaping from his lips, not able to be held back. He loves seeing TJ come undone like this.

TJ spreads his legs a little wider and that causes Doug to groan a little, cock twitching with interest. He can’t wait to fuck TJ, his ass is always so tight and feels so wonderful around his cock. Humming lightly, Doug continues to lave his tongue over TJ’s hole, pressing the tip in a little alongside his finger, and the way TJ’s hips sway back into it is absolutely delicious. Despite the fact that their desire is urgent, they continue to move together slowly for just a little while longer, being driven mad by the pace, by his tongue in TJ’s ass, and it’s only after a few moments that TJ’s whining for more. Doug instantly complies, pulling back a little and spitting on his hand to add a bit more lubrication before he adds another finger, and then a few moments later, another. TJ rocks against his fingers as Doug scissors and rubs them inside of him, working him open, getting him ready for his cock.

“Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day,” Doug murmurs, licking at TJ’s hole around his fingers, causing TJ to whimper pathetically.

“I have,” TJ sobs out around a moan, his fingers fisting in the sheets. “God, I always want you so much. Wasn’t enough to suck you off this morning, wasn’t enough to jerk you off before coffee with Mom. I need it, Doug,” he continues, mewling quietly. “Need your cock.”

Doug can never resist the way that TJ talks when they’re like this, it drives him absolutely crazy, and TJ knows that. He does it on purpose, the fucker, but Doug loves it, and he crooks his fingers hard, brushing against TJ’s prostate, causing his twin to cry out sharply.

“Doug!”

He nods, removing his fingers. Sure, TJ’s still a little tight, but he always is, and he so likes when he’s worked open with Doug’s cock. It won’t hurt this way, at least, since he’s been worked open so much, maybe it’ll burn a little as he’s stretched open, but TJ fucking loves that, has since the first time they ever had sex and the both of them, inexperienced almost to a fault, hadn’t known how much time to spend on prep versus pleasure. It’s different now, but still just as amazing.

TJ reaches his hand back, grasping at Doug’s hip and pulls him closer, and Doug grasps his cock, giving it a few quick strokes that have him moaning loudly. His twin whimpers again and Doug nods, breathless. Biting down on his bottom lip, Doug begins pressing his cock into TJ’s hole, screwing his eyes shut and letting out a low cry. “Oh, god. Tommy—”

He moves slowly, letting go of his cock and bracing one hand at the small of TJ’s back, the other gripping at his hip. Doug parts his lips, letting out a long, drawn out gasp as his cock was sheathed inside TJ’s body, the wet, tight heat dragging him in, closing around him. When he bottoms out, pressed flush against TJ’s body, he lingers for a moment, breathing in deeply, his hips twitching. “So tight. Fuck,” he rasps, beginning to move his hips just a little.

“Dougie,” TJ murmurs, voice broken and nearly too quiet. He wishes that he could look Doug in the eye when they’re like this, eager to take in any little change, but there will be time for that later. He tilts his hips back a little as well, grinding back against his twin, mewling at the feeling of his cock so deep inside. “You feel so good,” TJ continues, tipping his head back a little, flexing his fingers against the sheets. He’ll kiss Doug breathless when this is done, he knows it.

Doug will never fail to be turned on even further whenever TJ spoke his name when he was inside of him. Gasping, Doug nudged TJ’s legs apart even further; spread now so incredibly lewdly that anyone who saw him would think he was an absolute slut for it. Leaning down, Doug rests his forehead against the curve of TJ’s spine, pulling almost all of the way out and then sliding back in slowly.

“Ooh, baby,” he murmurs, nuzzling at TJ’s spine. “S’good.”

A low groan builds in TJ’s throat, grinding back into Doug’s hips. Doug lets out a trembling breath as TJ does that, driving him that much deeper inside. Pursing his lips together, eyelids sliding shut for a moment, Doug savors the feel of TJ and himself pressed as close as possible. Clutching strands of TJ’s hair between his fingertips, he pulls TJ’s head back so that TJ can see him better, and they lock eyes as Doug thrusts into him slowly, steadily.

A faint smile stretches across Doug's lips, faltering slightly as he sheathes himself in TJ's body. The way TJ looks at him when they were like this always makes his heart feel like it was swelling inside his chest, so full of love for the man he’s next to. Doug still boggles at how he’s so lucky as to have such a wonderful twin, friend and boyfriend. He doesn’t know where he’d be without TJ.

Doug presses all the way inside of TJ, lingering there for a moment before he begins to slowly roll his hips. Gasping, his eyelids flutter closed for a moment, and he bows his head, pressing his face against TJ’s back and inhaling deeply. "How do you want it?" he murmurs, lips ghosting over TJ's skin. "I'll give you whatever you want, just tell me."

“Give it to me hard,” TJ rasps, purposefully clenching around Doug’s cock, swaying his hips, and drawing a long, low moan out of his twin. “Fuck me, Dougie. You know you like it like that, claiming me. I like it, too. Want marks,” he adds, licking at his bottom lip and smirking a little. Doug nods, eyes brightening at the prospect of actually marking TJ, scratching and biting into his skin, tongue laving over afterward.

“Yeah,” he gasps, nodding a little. He pulls back, gripping at TJ’s hips firmly as he pulls his cock almost all of the way out of his hole, waiting a beat, and then thrusting back into him roughly. When Doug began to pound into him, TJ let his mouth fall open, a slew of mixed sounds and half-formed words spilling from him. It’s so amazing like this, Doug fucking him harder, and TJ whimpers, reaching one of his hands down to grip at his cock, stroking himself quickly, in time with Doug’s thrusts.

“Oh god. Tommy,” Doug gasps, opening his eyes from where they’d drifted shut and looking toward TJ’s face, admiring all the nuances that he could see, and fucks his way up into TJ’s body that much quicker. He watches, rapt with desire, the lines of TJ’s muscles as he rocks back against him, fucking himself on his cock. It’s amazing and hot and he knows he won’t last much longer, everything feeling so intense.

“Love watching you fuck yourself on my cock,” Doug rasps, licking at his lips as he pounds into his twin. “You’re so good, Tommy. Such a good boy for me.” He shifts the angle slightly and is rewarded with a sharp cry from TJ; he does so love when they were able to find that spot inside of TJ’s body that had him losing any semblance of control that he had remaining. It shatters what remains of Doug’s as well, and let lets out a soft answering cry as he rocks into TJ steadily, cock filling his twin’s hole.

“TJ … oh god, TJ-“

TJ’s hand begins to work his cock a bit faster, and he matches that with the pace with which he’s fucking himself on Doug’s cock. Unabashed little whimpers and moans escape him at the combined feeling of it all, the almost obscene sound of their skin meeting too loud in the relative quiet of their apartment.

“Dougie – oh god, Dougie,” he pants, his twin’s name a mantra on his lips. A strangled moan falls from his lips, and he works his hips that much faster now that he can taste how absolutely close he was. “’m gonna come – I’m – oh Dougie—” His voice broke and words stutter to a stop as he feels his orgasm hit him. Though all of his muscles tensed, TJ still managed to work his hips as he came, spilling over his own fist and onto their sheets, giving another choked-off groan. Once his orgasm had crested, TJ moves his hips again, shivering through the aftershocks as he continues rocking back against Doug.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, bowing his head to press against the pillows. “Come inside me. Wanna feel you do it.”

“Tommy,” Doug gasps as TJ continues to fuck himself back on his cock, the both of them rocking together desperately – Doug to come, TJ to get his twin off. “Fuck. Soon. Oh, god. Yes … yes!”

Doug practically howls as he comes, the sound ebbing off into little whines and whimpers that end up muffled as he bites into the meat of TJ's shoulder, arching his hips forward, slamming into TJ’s ass. He forces his eyes to stay open, wanting to watch TJ as he empties himself inside of him, hips jerking and moving in short, aborted thrusts. Breathing harshly, lips parted, Doug collapses on top of TJ, who falls flat on the blankets, laying in a pool of his own come. He smiles briefly, still fighting for air, letting his eyelids slip closed.

“Tommy,” he murmurs reverently, lips brushing against the soft, damp skin of TJ’s shoulder, tongue laving gently over the bitemarks.

“Mhm?” he hums lightly, loving the feeling of Doug inside of him, even soft and spent as he is. He shifts a little beneath Doug, and before his twin can reply, there’s the loud bang of fireworks and car horns out in the street. It’s finally midnight, and they both turn their head to watch the colors explode through the sheer curtain covering the window.

“Happy New Year,” Doug whispers.

“Happy New Year,” TJ replies lazily, shifting his hips a little, feeling blissfully fucked out as he rests against the blankets.

Their smiles widen and they press just as close as they can. If there’s any better way to ring in the New Year, neither of them could ever think of it – certainly not right now. After all, they have everything they could ever need; each other.


End file.
